Things that go Bump in the Night
by Superdoopernaturally
Summary: Demons don't care too much when it comes to choosing victims... People of all ages and sizes, let's revisit the legend of the Boogeyman... WARNING: May contain some potential upsetting material, it's horror for a reason Please R


_AUTHOR'S NOTE: There may be some scenes and things said that may be controversial in the aspect that victims of this demon of the week are mere children... read at own risk..._

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing to do with Supernatural – nor any characters, though don't we all wish? Kudos to Eric Kripke…_

EPISODE "_Things that go bump in the night_"

Little Johnnie trembled in his bed. He was only seven years old, but he wanted everyone to know what a big boy he was. He didn't want them to know that he was afraid of the monster that lived under his bed. His parents had brushed him off, reasoning that it was normal for little kids to be scared of such things, but in the world the Winchester brothers lived in – anything is possible. Sam's father had given him a 45 when he was eight years old and afraid of the thing in his closet. Little Johnnie was genuinely scared.

A low and malicious grumble erupted from under the bed and Johnnie gasped as he snapped the bed sheets up to just under his eyes. His bright blue eyes peering around the room, fear deep inside with white knuckles holding the sheets to his face. A cold wind whipped around the room, sending the model airplanes hanging from hooks on the ceiling zooming around in endless circles, the curtains to his closed window blowing in the strange breeze. Johnnie's breathing quickened as the growling grew louder and louder with every second that passed. The wind picked up as his sheets were ripped from the bed, leaving Johnnie shuddering with fear and scrambling to sit as far into the head of his bed as possible. The clock radio on his bedside table flickered on and off, the light switch simultaneously flicking on and off as well. A crack resounded in the room like thunder as a clawed and scaly hand reached out from under the bed and snatched Johnnie's foot into a firm grasp before pulling him screaming under the bed.

Sam is sitting on a stool; laptop perched precariously on his knees, giant thick shake at hand whilst looking from the screen to his brother. Dean is being the red blooded Winchester he is and chatting up the pretty blonde waitress on the other side of the counter. Sam rolls his eyes and continues to search for another job.

**MUTILATED BODY FOUND UNDER BED** Seven year old Zachary Livingston, was found under his bed in the waking hours of yesterday morning by his parents, Ron and Linda Livingston, reports Gregory Smith. Police reports say there were no signs of a struggle, no forced entry, nothing broken found in the boy's room or any sign of attempt at self defense. Coroner reports reveal the boy's body was mutilated beyond recognition, cause of death being disembowelment and various serious lacerations to his body. His parents allowed us today to reveal to the public the horrific way in which their son died to send a message out to would be killers that innocent children do not deserve to die in such a manner. They wished to instill in the public a certain fear for their children in order to ensure nothing like this happened again. Names have been changed for some sense of anonymity.

Sam's eyes widened further and further the more he read into the article. They had dealt with werewolves, sand demons, demonic killers, _the_ demon – and yet they had never come across any one demon that focused on children save the shtriga, but nothing as brutal as this. It was utterly inhumane, and yet Sam couldn't help but think that it was perfectly normal when you think demonically. He was sure demons didn't care about the victims they chose. He looked up and found Dean staring at the blonde waitress's chest as she wrote her number on the back of a napkin, his gaze quickly transferred to her face when she looked up and handed it to him, smiling provocatively as she went back into the kitchens. Dean sauntered over to Sam, his trademark grin plastered all over his face, brandishing his napkin. The look on Sam's faced wiped away that grin and he had to ask, "What? I know I'm sexy, quit starin' at me like that." Sam rolled his eyes and instead launched into explaining their next job.

"Dude, that's just wrong. They can't hurt kids, can they?" Dean asked, gob smacked and incredulous.  
"It fits, I mean demons don't care about age when it comes to choosing their victims, age is irrelevant. I mean _the demon_ didn't care all those years ago when it murdered Mom. And that shtriga feeding of children's life forces?"  
"Yeah, but this is just _inhumane_."  
Sam stared at Dean, "What?"  
"Oh nothing, nothing, just never knew you'd extended your vocabulary recently."  
"Dude?... Shut up and get your scrawny ass in the car."

Yellow police tape.

Flashbulbs blaring.

Gathered people.

Body bag zipped.

The impala pulled to a slow stop just outside of little girl Hannah's home. Sam and Dean stared bewildered at the mass of people outside the Pullman home. Dean edged slowly towards the nearest officer, giving his best impersonation of a man of importance. "Officer…Jacobson, what seems to be the problem here?" Officer Jacobson looked up into Dean's eyes before slowly looking him up and down, scrutinizing his appearance. "And why should I tell you?" Dean raised his eyes exasperatedly and reached into his jacket pocket, expertly flipping his faux FBI agent's badge. Jacobson straightened his posture and changed his attitude towards Dean immediately, "I'm sorry agent…?" "Dean, Dean Forrester." "Agent Forrester, there's been another attack, surely you've heard of Amanda Gribbs and Johnnie Walker?" Dean fought back a laugh at the name _Johnnie Walker_, and managed to pull it off by nodding his answer. "This one's much the same, another brutal murder of a small child. Hannah Pullman was eight years old." Dean bit on his lip, _too young to die_, as Jacobson leaned in a little closer and whispered, "Found her hanging from her window ledge, by her _hair_, feet missing, scratched beyond recognition, deep gouges to her back. But that's not all, we found another mark." Dean raised his eyebrow, intrigued, "Mark you say?" "A small detailed eye burn mark to her lower left abdomen, we found the same scars in the same places on Amanda and Johnnie." Dean fiddled with the cuff of his long duster jacket. "Is there any way I could get a good look at the scene?" Jacobson merely nodded and lifted the yellow police tape, allowing Dean access to the home.

Jacobson led him around the left side of the house to just beneath Hannah's window. A pool of blood had collected at the ground, seeping into the soil beneath the lush green grass, a reminder of where Hannah had been hung by her hair. Dean raised a hand to the paneled wood of the side of the house, spattered remnants of blood glistened in the sunlight seemingly decorating the house in near perfect lines. Dean could almost picture something slashing across Hannah's body, the blood flying through the air to spatter as so on the wall. The window to Hannah's room was firmly shut and fine hair gathered underneath the latch where Hannah had been hanging from. Dean cringed and almost jumped a mile when Jacobson spoke again.

"No child deserves to die like this, what kind of psychopath would do such a thing to such a young person?"  
"I don't know for sure but they can't be human." Dean stated as a matter of fact.  
"That's for sure." Jacobson agreed, oblivious to what Dean had really meant.  
"Is there anyway I can get crime scene photos? Photos of Hannah's body? Research purposes – we have these things for Johnnie and Amanda as well, but it would be helpful if you can get us some information about Hannah."

"There has to be a connection somewhere." Dean said, pacing their dully decorated motel room.  
"Well apart from them brutally being torn to bits with body parts hanging or missing, and the eye scars – that's about it, I can't even figure a link between the children."  
"Well that's no good, how do we know what we're up against?"  
"Pass me Dad's journal – I need to have a look at something."

Dean gave Sam an inquiring look but did so anyway, handing Sam his father's journal. Sam started flicking through the pages before coming to rest on a page not far from the beginning. An eye was drawn at the top of the left page, one that looked alarmingly similar to the eye scars embellished into the children's abdomens. Sam stood up and began to remove his shirt. "Dude, what are you doing?" Dean asked, a little confused. Sam ignored Dean and instead fully removed his shirt before tracing his hand down his stomach to his lower abdomen. His fingers brushed against a rough patch of skin to the left. He kept his finger in place as he moved to the wall mirror and took a closer look at the skin beneath his hand. A faint oval shaped scar, blurred yet still there was etched into the skin. "Dean?" Sam asked, a little unsure and a little scared. "What's wrong?" Sam showed him the scar on his stomach. "I don't remember ever getting a scar like that."

Sam turned back to his father's journal, under the depiction of the eye was a name, _Snottismiuth_, which, translated from it's utterly weird and wacky language, read – snot demon. "Snot demon?" Dean asked, dubious. "The Boogeyman." Dean burst into hysterics. "Boogeyman?! That's hysterical!" Sam shot back – "And _real_, listen to this, _Snottismiuth, or better known as **The Boogeyman** is one nasty demon. Triggered by strong fear of things that go bump in the night, the Boogeyman will manifest a child's worst nightmares and eventually kill said child taking a talisman as keepsake of each victim. The Boogeyman will first mark his next victim – choosing through sense of strong fear in children mainly, it is extremely rare for Snottismiuth to attack children in their pubescent years let alone adults. The mark appears in the form of an eye almost burnt into its victim's lower left abdomen. Once marked – there is practically no way of stopping the Boogeyman from killing it's chosen victim. The Boogeyman is only defeated by a strong outburst of happiness or elation or high as the Boogeyman is encouraged on by fear, depression and anxiety. To kill the Boogeyman is difficult – you must have the mark yourself as its weakest link is to victims it has marked before but have escaped its clutches._ Greaaaaat. I'm fucked."  
"How do we know who it's after next?"  
"It says that it goes after victims one at a time, marking only one at a time until it has either killed its victim or admitted defeat."  
"What so we're supposed to go to the local playground and ask kids to lift their shirts? Mom's everywhere would be beating us with their handbags!" Dean grimaced thoughtfully and then looked back to Sam – obviously reconsidering whether it would be good or not to be beaten by a hot handbag wielding Mom.  
"Well there's a start I guess…"

"Sammy what the hell are we doing here again?" Dean asked angrily. There were no hot handbag wielding Mommas in sight and Dean was getting more and more impatient by the second. Screaming children ran through the playground's obstacles, dangled from monkey bars, swung on swings, spun on mini carousels manually worked and generally played around. They all seemed happy, not one of them seemed likely to be afraid of things that went bump in the night. Dean wandered up to the nearest child playfully rocking back and forth on a bouncy donkey. "Hey little girl, mind if I take a look at your stomach?" The blonde little beauty looked fearfully into Dean's eyes, her lower lip trembling and ran screaming from him screaming for her Mommy. "Jesus Christ they're noisy buggers." Sam came up beside Dean, "Trying to work your moves on little girls? That's low." Sam laughed. Dean punched him hard in the arm. At that point in time a woman dragging a sobbing girl behind her the girl Dean was trying to evaluate , decided to come up to them and bash Dean over the head with her overlarge carry bag that felt like it was holding bricks. The mother gave him a disgusted look, spat at the ground where his feet were and walked off, muttering curses under her breath. "I think we may need to come up with a better idea of how to check kid's bellies… Sam?" Dean turned to Sam who looked to be in a great deal of pain. Sam clutched the sides of his head as images flashed before his eyes.

_Dark brown hair. _

_Startlingly green eyes._

_Blue Cookie monster shirt. _

_Bright red Wellington boots._

_Blue shorts coming past his knees._

_Contagious giggle._

_Anguished scream. _

_Name badge perched on the dresser._

"Dean, his name's Zack." Dean startled from his reverie, he'd had a hand soothingly rubbing Sam's shoulder willing him to get through yet another vision. "Okay, so where is he?" "Well, he was wearing a blue Cookie Monster shirt", "Fitting, oh I LOVE cookies!", "Dude, shut up – we all know you got the extra cookie – AS I WAS SAYING – I know what he looks like – so let's up the ante and search!"

Sam and Dean had scoured the playground from top to bottom, but without any success of finding Zack. They had earnt themselves hard stares from parents watching their kids as they played around the Winchesters looking every kid up and down. Both boys slumped down onto a bench as little kids started to leave the playground with their corresponding parents. Sam checked his watch, it was 5pm, and almost jumped a mile when Dean shook Sam by the shoulders. "Is that him??" He asked whilst pointing to one lonesome little kid, he barely looked six years old. Sam's eyes went wide as he nodded his answer, standing up to approach Zack cautiously. He had almost reached the child in his visions when a white handbag launched out of nowhere and caught Sam full in the face. Sam staggered back a little, caught completely off guard. "HOW DARE YOU!!! GET AWAY FROM MY SON YOU PAEDOPHILES!!!" The woman had practically screamed in his ear. Sam almost fell over and on his arse when a hand came out of nowhere to steady him by the shoulders, Dean stood beside him as the woman stared at the both of them, disgusted. "You should BOTH be ashamed of yourselves!" She claimed before she whisked her son away from them both and to her car.

"I swear to god if I get bashed by another handbag I'm gonna snap like a twig and won't care _who_ I take it out on." Sam merely grunted a reply as he went back to watching the house. They had followed Zack and his Mom home and were now waiting in the car for anything out of the ordinary, they had found that Zack's bedroom was on the right side of the house. A light switched on and they could see his violent mother fussing over his small form. Zack laid down in bed, afraid. "Zack, there's nothing to be afraid of, there's nothing hiding in your closet. And don't worry about those men back at the playground, I'm sure they really were nice men." Zack's mother pulled a face as she said that last bit, thinking to herself _perverted bastards_, turning to close the opened window. She hadn't noticed the Chevy Impala parked on the other side of the road and instead snapped the windows shut. Zack jumped a mile. "There, there, get some rest – I'll see you in the morning my little munchkin." And with that she left the room.

"His Mom's gone."  
"Good, so now that gives us time to beat this mother fucker without any baggage."  
"Oh Ha Ha. Just keep your eye out for anything not normal."  
"Dude I know the drill, we've only been hunting for how long now?"  
"Since you needed me that first time, to find Dad."  
"Exactly, YEARS. I should know by now don't you think?"  
"Shut up."  
"Dude I am not going to shut up, _you_ shut up."  
"No – SHUT up – something's happening."

They could see a light flickering on and off in Zack's room. The lamppost just above their car blew and a breeze ripped through the air and into the tree just outside Zack's bedroom window. "Sh!t." Both brothers exclaimed in unison. They thrashed open their doors and took to the house at a sprint, heading directly for Zack's bedroom window. Dean scaled the wall first and peered through the window. Zack was huddled in a tangle of bed sheets, seemingly sinking into the bed head, frightened for his life. The doors to his closet snapped open and shut forcefully, creating a massive racket, banging as if of gun shots. Dean smashed through the window to get into the room, Sam following closely behind. Zack was too afraid of the thing in his closet to notice two new intruders. The thing in the closet launched out the moment it saw Dean come through the window. Its dark red eyes glistened like blood in what little moonlight shone through Zack's bedroom window. It flexed its claw like fingers menacingly, curling and straightening them furiously. It snarled at the brothers, sharp gleaming white teeth set in a massed and bloody jaw. Its skin a murky haze of dirty purple rippled with the movement of strong and wiry muscles. It darted forward to try and claim Zack, grabbing for the terrified boy as Zack watched rooted to the spot. Dean instead pulled the shotgun from his jacket and bore a hole in the creature's back. It snarled angrily as it stopped short of its goal and shuddered uncontrollably. The shot wound healing almost instantly, Dean put the gun aside.

"Yep, we're screwed… Sam……Sammy?"

Sam stood there, paralyzed with fear. Nothing had instilled a fear in him as powerful as this monster did now. It was like all of his childhood fears resurfaced and threatened to tear him apart with this sight. The boogeyman chuckled, or what sounded like a chuckle and leered at Sam, turning from Zack and instead advancing on Sam. Dean turned to Sam and noticed the obvious fear in his eyes. If Sam didn't snap out of it now, they'd all be dead meat! And Dean couldn't do jack sh!t either, it had to be someone already marked by the beast. He stood and watched on. Boogeyman advanced on Sam, coming face to face with only a hair's breadth between them. Sam paled as he caught smell of its putrid breath, but couldn't do anything to stop it. Boogeyman raised a clawed hand to Sam's face dragging a long nail along Sam's cheek before plunging a talon of its other hand into the depths of Sam's stomach, right where his scar was. Sam screamed in pain and it took all of Dean's strength not to pounce on that mother f#ker's back and kill it himself. Not one of them noticed Zack rise from the bed. A gun shot sounded in the room. Dean whipped his head around to find Zack with a smoking gun in his hands. Out of pure luck, the bullet had torn into the creature's skull, exploding on impact. Claw still deep inside Sam's steadily bleeding stomach it fell to the ground dragging Sam with it. Dean raced to be by his brother's side as Zack stood gaping at the demon he just shot. He had gotten up from the bed, realizing the danger this other man was in and instinctively tried to think of something, anything to stop that monster.

After having quiet words to Zack's mother before the Winchester brothers left town, Sam was taken to a hospital where he received 20 stitches to his stomach and a few less to his face. Sam was a right bloody mess after the boogeyman got to him. As soon as Sam had lain eyes on the monster, fears from his childhood resurfaced and took over. Sam was glad of at least one thing though – that eye mark would finally be gone. Sam winced with pain as Dean helped him into the front passenger seat. His stomach was still raw and tender. Sam leant back into the seat and closed his eyes. He remembered fragments of what happened after the demon had dug its claws into him. Dean had told him he had told the boy not to tell anyone of what happened – because he might scare other little kids and that he was a very brave young boy, much like Dean himself. He had explained to the mother while Sam was in hospital that they had been driving past their house when they saw a figure crawling through the window and ran after him. Angela had understood and thanked them for caring enough to make sure her son was alright. All in all, they agreed they had it lucky with the reaction they got. As they drove off to another job, another town, Sam couldn't help but think about the children whose lives had already been taken from _The Boogeyman_…


End file.
